Whenever I see a National Trust logo by the side of the road I put my foot down hard on the accelerator. A chill goes down my spine and memories of childhood family holidays descend.

Every August my parents would book a fortnight somewhere in the UK and invariably buy a National Trust annual family card on the first day then thrash it hard till the holiday's end. They argued that visiting National Trust houses was a good diversion from the rain and having bought the card it seemed sensible to get our money's worth.

The problem was that in those days the National Trust wasn't very child-friendly. Every room of these huge musty mansions was manned by a dreadful matron in tweeds who would give you a tongue lashing if you touched the knobbly furniture or made a noise. And if you dared to put one step over one of those little ropes cordoning off the ancestral four-poster bed or put your nose too close to one of those gloomy paintings of inbred earls you would be shooed away. I always tried to imagine what it must have been like staying in such a place.

So when Ickworth Hotel opened last year at the National Trust's Ickworth House just outside Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk I was intrigued to find that not only could you now stay in a stately home, but that it was being marketed as 'family friendly'. Had I read right? Kids invited to jump on the four-posters and scream down the echoey corridors? (My dad says we visited Ickworth on our National Trust card in the old days but I couldn't remember as all the properties had long since blurred into one.)

The Luxury Family Hotel company, (best known for kids' haven Woolley Grange in Wiltshire) now has the east wing of this property on a 99-year lease and, yes, kids are welcome to, dare I say it, have a great time.

Arriving at 10pm on a Friday after a 90-minute dash down the motorway from London, we were a sorry crew - a tired, cold, sneezing three-year-old, a tetchy eight-week-old and two sleep-deprived parents. Driving through misty parklands surrounding the property at night with wild rabbits darting across our path, there was something of a Blair Witch Project feel about the place. We collapsed en masse into the Asprucci room in the attic, where the servants used to live. It had sloping ceilings and a round window (very Play Schoo l) and a giant wardrobe which Hanna, our three-year-old, instantly climbed inside. 'Look at me mum!' You'd never have got away with that at a National Trust place in my day.

The generous bathroom was filled with sleek, modern Duravit fittings. No four-legged baths and traditional taps here - very refreshing to see. Hotel owner Nigel Chapman has avoided chintz and defied convention. Just because it's National Trust doesn't mean it has to be fuddy-duddy.

The ground floor drawing room is full of Eames lounge chairs and white Saarinen stem chairs (the ones that look like wine glasses) and mammoth pictures of spooky women with fuzzy heads in long gowns.

Our room (one of the traditional ones - as opposed to the contemporary ones) was filled with green taffeta curtains, chandeliers and a massive double bed. As one family put it in the Record of first time experiences at Ickworth book: 'It was the first time all four of us slept so well in the same bed.'

The room was equipped with cot, steriliser, bottle warmer, changing mat and kettle - and there was even a built-in baby listening unit (monitored by the reception staff) so you could escape to the bar once your kids were tucked up in bed.

We were woken early by the sound of children charging down the corridors. The hotel was full (23 families according to the visitors' book) and breakfast was testing staff to the limit. The breakfast conservatory was full of high chairs with wailing children chucking food around. Kiwi fruits and sausages were trodden into the floor. If you don't like kids, be sure not to come here.

I'm sure that the echoey long corridors encouraged Hanna to shout and scream more than normal, which would coincide with exactly the same moment the general manager arrived. 'Don't worry about it - we're all parents here,' he said. Which is what makes this hotel such a treat. However many smeared sausages or tantrums, you have the comfort of knowing everyone is in the same boat.

Few hotels manage to pull off the parent/kids deal so well. There is a fully staffed basement crèche brim full of games consoles, board games, dolls and toy farms. Hanna, who usually clings to my ankles and wails at even the mention of the evil words Kids' Club (code name in her eyes for kiddy dumping ground), not only rushed into play, but wouldn't come out - the toys and nice staff did the trick.

Eight-week-old Max was looked after by Jacqui in the baby room - exercising for the very first time on a baby gym. Hanna joined the 5pm kids' tea in the crèche where lashings of gravy, chicken and mash were followed by sticky puds.

Which meant my cold-ridden husband could huddle up with his laptop in the attic trying to meet a deadline, and I could go to the spa for a massage followed by a good session reading the day's papers.

There is loads to do with the kids here. I took Hanna out in the sidecar of one of the bikes which are free for all guests to use. Being complete townies, we dressed all wrong - normal boots and coats - no oiled jackets or wellies (although you could have borrowed them from reception). Hanna enjoyed the ride around the beautiful parklands despite me cycling so hard we were both splattered from head to foot in mud. Later we were the only guests having races in the indoor heated pool. Fantastic.

Once the kids were tucked up that night, we escaped to dinner. Salmon, blinis and caviar (teeny weeny artistic portions) to start, followed by 'line caught wild sea bass, crab risotto and star anis cream'. A welcome far cry from the comfort nursery food elsewhere in the hotel. Before we left, I took a stroll around the building. The hotel is attached to a tremendous rotunda which was used for entertaining in the old days. I actually found myself peering through the windows and feeling disappointed that it was closed to visitors because it was winter. Maybe a dose of Ickworth had cured me of my National Trust phobia.

I came back to the lobby to hear the shrieks of someone's badly behaved child screaming down the lobby. To my horror, it appeared to be MY child. She had flung herself down on to her knees and was beating the ground.

'I don't want to go home! I want to stay here!' Over and over. An interesting reaction to a National Trust property which made me realise that staying in a stately home had been magic. For all the family.

·Ickworth Hotel (01284 7353 50) has off- peak breaks for £180 per room per night sleeping two adults and one child including dinner and breakfast.